


A Valentines Gift

by WilmaKins



Series: A Holiday Romance [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Apologies, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Fix-It, Getting Together, Light Angst, Love Confessions, Love Letters, M/M, Protective Tony Stark, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-12
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-18 16:07:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29371302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WilmaKins/pseuds/WilmaKins
Summary: Six weeks after their big reconciliation, and both Steve and Tony have started to realise that its about more than whether they can move on from what happened - it's also about whether they have a future together.
Relationships: Steve Rogers/Tony Stark
Series: A Holiday Romance [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2067012
Comments: 19
Kudos: 65





	A Valentines Gift

**Author's Note:**

> Written for all the very lovely people who wanted to see a continuation of this story! I hope you wanted a *lot* of context, character introspection and over thinking. Ahem. 
> 
> Also, fair warning - this is a CACW fix-it series written by someone who loves both characters very much, and believes they have both made mistakes over the course of the MCU. I believe these mistakes are all understandable, and forgivable, and could be fixed with some work and communication - but that all of that would be necessary, for this to be a workable relationship. Previous instalments of this series have focused more on Steve's apologies, and I believe all those points are valid and fair and they still all very much stand. I just happen to think that Tony *also* has apologies to make, and lessons to learn, entirely separate to that - and this particular fic might focus more on those. This does not invalidate any of the points Tony has previously made - just as the apologies Steve had made don't make Tony's any less important or valid, here.  
> If you're here because of a strong affiliation to one side, and just want to see the other punished/grovelling/suffering, this might not be the fic for you.
> 
> Hope you enjoy it!

Tony was just walking through the door to his suite when he felt his phone vibrate softly in his pocket. 

Not  _ that _ phone.

If it had been  _ that  _ phone, Tony would’ve stopped in the middle of taking his shoes off, his jacket still grasped awkwardly in one hand, to answer it. 

But, unlike most of the notifications he received on his ordinary, everyday phone, this one did elicit an excited little smile. An impulse to kick his shoes off and hang up his jacket that much quicker-

All so that he could read an automated booking notification from an online travel agent - for a vacation home that he wouldn’t even be staying in. 

_ But it means that Steve will be safe... _

A sheepish grin spread over Tony’s face, as he remembered Rhodey teasing him a few days earlier, poking him in the ribs and observing in a sing-song tone,  _ someone’s got it bad… _

And. Well. 

Yeah.

Tony had to admit that ‘this thing’ he had going with Steve had developed so much faster - and so much  _ better _ \- than he had ever hoped. 

He’d woken up on New Years Day with a sense of pointedly tempered optimism. Yes, he was still delighted by the unexpected turn in their relationship, and he’d allowed himself to be relieved about the issues that  _ had _ been addressed… but he’d been under no illusion that everything was fixed between them. He’d spent years agonising over the many complexities of Steve Rogers - long enough to just  _ feel _ that there was a lot of work left to do. 

At the time, Tony had comforted himself with the thought that it did at least feel doable now. Even while he tried to prepare himself for the possibility that it just couldn’t work out, he’d had a sense of genuine hope - a feeling that it was at least worth trying. After the year he’d had, Tony considered that a win. 

Of course, in retrospect, the one thing he should’ve expected was that Steve would exceed all of his expectations.

And yet, Tony  _ had _ been taken aback by just how earnestly and bravely Steve had sought to heal the damage between them. How willing he was to listen, how honest he was prepared to be, how much thought he’d clearly put into everything that had happened… How willing he was to accept his mistakes, and apologise for them. 

Tony had always thought that being defensive was one of Steve’s few character flaws, that he was just naturally reluctant to apologise and bad at it when he did-

But now Tony was beginning to wonder whether Steve had simply never been given the chance. 

It was one of the few little anxieties he felt, in amongst all this overwhelmed and unexpected joy. A growing sense that  _ his _ apologies were the ones left unsaid...

He had tried.

Well, okay, maybe  _ at first _ he’d been only too willing to sit and listen while Steve unpacked and apologised for his behaviours of the past - and Steve had gone  _ way _ back. He’d apologised for misjudging Tony when they first met and for yelling at him over Ultron and for a thousand little missteps and misunderstandings, some of which Tony had completely forgotten… 

Considering that it was everything he thought he wanted to hear, Tony had been surprised by how quickly he’d become uncomfortable with it. 

Within a few very earnest phone calls he’d been desperate to butt in, to explain why Steve shouldn’t feel as bad as he did-

Why he was sorry, too. 

Amongst other things, Tony had wanted to say that he was sorry for not giving Steve the opportunity to talk that way before - which was the only reason he hadn’t talked over Steve’s explanations with his own. 

Because he had the distinct feeling that Steve  _ liked _ being able to apologise. That maybe it was more that he’d never been given a fair hearing before now. That he’d never felt safe to explain his side of the story or  _ free _ to tell it, at least not to Tony… Which Tony was beginning to recognise was at least partly his fault…

He set that idea to the side for the moment, as he gathered his mail from the basket by the door. He resolved to get the mundane evening tasks out of the way before he gave this some serious thought, wandering through to the kitchen, the wad of envelopes still clutched in his hand. 

Of course, that didn’t mean he was going to stop thinking about Steve. 

It  _ meant _ that he was going to allow his mind to drift through the happier daydreams, as he set the mail down on the counter and poured himself a coffee. Remembering the sweet things that Steve had said to him, and the plans Tony had for when Steve could come home, and the feel of Steve’s skin under his palms...

And then he thought of the little cottage he’d just booked, hidden away in the French countryside, and he sighed.

He wished so much that he could’ve gone too.

He hadn’t seen Steve since New Years Eve, which was six whole weeks ago now. And, okay, Tony had to admit, to begin with, that might actually have been a good thing. Having no choice but to  _ talk _ . Having to say the words out loud, rather than relying on loaded gestures. Having no way to distance themselves from the issues, no way to deflect or hide… it had been uncomfortable at times, but undeniably good for both of them. 

The  _ only _ problem was that it had led Tony to fall ever more in love with Steve, so much faster than he’d been expecting, so that now he missed him like a physical ache. 

Which was a nicer problem to have, obviously… but still… Tony would have loved to be able to surprise him, to be waiting for him at that cottage when he arrived…

_ And it'll be Valentine's Day… _

Tony breathed a shy little laugh. There was a pure sort of exhilaration when he thought of that, a nice kind of nervousness or a pleasant breathlessness, or something. Something he wasn’t sure he’d  _ ever _ felt before. 

Tony had never really let himself be open to  _ romantic  _ feelings like this. He’d never been brave enough to allow them, never dared think of a world beyond all of his safeguards and shortfalls. He’d certainly never put much stock by Valentines Day before now, only ever thinking of it as an obligation to others - if he’d ever thought about it at all. A little bit of cynicism had been a necessary part of his armour for a long time. Preemptively deciding that he didn’t want or value the things that he was sure he’d never have... 

But he very much liked the idea of being Steve’s Valentine, as silly as he would have felt saying it outloud. 

And, whatever his concerns going into this, he was sure now that he wanted to be with Steve. It was more than just knowing that he forgave Steve, or even knowing that he loved him. It was wanting to build something  _ with  _ Steve, starting something new together, being able to call Steve his… He  _ wanted _ to make Steve happy.

If that was what Steve wanted...

He hoped that was what Steve wanted... 

Tony wasn’t entirely sure how he was going to get to any of that, over the phone. 

He let go of a heavy breath, and took a sip of his coffee, pausing to enjoy the way it tingled on the surface of his tongue. And then he pointedly reminded himself of  _ why _ he couldn’t be with Steve that weekend; that his meeting with the UN was just one step on a long road to getting the charges against the Avengers dropped. More than that. It was the first time Tony had walked into one of these meetings armed with a consensus that they’d built together, the first time he and Steve had been able to talk about all of the politics and the ideologies and the underlying fears beforehand - it was symbolic, really. The first attempt at a whole new way of working, a chance to start an entirely new story… 

Tony couldn’t miss it for the sake of a silly commercialised holiday. 

So, he leant his weight on the counter and fanned his mail out in front of him. He knew that most of the envelopes contained agendas that he’d already received electronically and copies of documents that he’d signed months ago. Corporate junk mail. He ran his eyes over some of the address labels but didn’t read them, his mind still drifting somewhere near Bourgogne…

Until his eyes snagged on one of the envelopes. A nondescript white-cardboard sleeve, stamped by the local delivery company and bearing a typed address label-

_ To: Tony Stank _

Tony’s face broke into a grin, sending half of his mail sliding off of the counter and onto the floor as he grabbed for the only envelope that  _ didn’t _ have his name on it. 

Desperately hoping that it  _ was _ an in-joke, rather than a genuine typo-

And then he tore the sleeve open, and glanced inside, and saw a single, smaller envelope - nothing else. No covering letter, no packing slip, no explanatory booklet - no corporate junk. 

_ So it  _ _ has _ _ to be- _

He dared to hold it against his chest as he rushed back over to the couch, his coffee forgotten along with the papers scattered all over his floor. 

If it was what he thought it was - what he  _ hoped _ it was - then he wanted to be able to sit and read it properly.

He was actually holding his breath as he ran his finger under the seal of that second envelope-

And then gasped softly, as he pulled the greeting card free. 

Firstly, because it  _ was _ a card - and undeniably a Valentines card, at that. Even before he processed the individual details of it, Tony recognised the pink and purple tones, the heart motif - and immediately started to hope that it all might hold the same significance to Steve. 

And then he read the words on the front of it,

_ If kisses were stars, _

_ I would give you the sky. _

Written in a circle around a little cartoon of an astronaut, reaching out for a heart shaped planet, floating against a glittered background. 

Tony had to pause and swallow his heartbeat, his face flushing warm as a surge of giddiness overwhelmed him. It was such an immediate,  _ pure _ feeling that it left him feeling slightly exposed.

An excited little voice whispered in his head, like a lovestruck schoolboy,  _ Steve Rogers sent you a Valentine... _

He pinched a smile between his lips, giving his head a self conscious shake at his own ridiculousness, and opened the card.

He read it in Steve’s voice.

_ Dear Tony, _

_ I’ll start by pointing out that there aren’t a lot of opportunities to buy greetings cards when you’re on the run - although, if I’d had a million to choose from, I wouldn’t have found one that came close to summing you up, or how I feel about you. And I’ve  _ _ finally  _ _ realised that I’ve spent my whole life being so scared of saying the wrong thing that I’ve missed saying the right thing, way too many times.  _

_ So, on an imperfect card, in my imperfect words, _

_ I love you.  _

_ I have loved you for about as long as I’ve known you. Even when you confused and frustrated me and annoyed me, I still loved you. I love how different and brilliant and brave you are. I love the way you see things, the way you can take the world around you and make it into whatever you want, the way you just don’t take no for an answer. I have looked at you so many times and thought, if I’d never crashed that plane, and lost everything, and woken up in this strange future, I never would’ve known about Tony Stark. There are so many times that made things better - and I would never have taken it back. Not for as long as you’re here.  _

_ And I am sorry that you didn’t know that, all that time. I’m sorry because, if I’d treated you the way you deserved, you would have. I’m sorry for so many things, and I don’t think for a second that everything’s better now- _

_ But I’ve spent far too long hiding what I’m feeling, and not saying what I think - or what I want. And that just ended in heart ache. And we’ve spent too long guessing and misunderstanding what the other was thinking, _

_ So, without expectation or qualification, for no other reason than I really want you to know this,  _

_ You are the person I want to spend the rest of my life with, and I want to share every part of it with you.  _

_ And for so long, I ran away from saying something as simple and as obvious as that - in case you didn’t feel the same, in case it made you think badly of me, in case it changed things… And it’s taken me this long to realise that it’s all still true, regardless of any of that, so I might as well say it. I  _ _ am _ _ in love with you, and I  _ _ do  _ _ miss being with you, and if I could I would wake up beside you every morning, and be so happy to tell the whole world you were mine _

_ And I just wanted you to know that. _

_ Happy Valentines Day, _

_ Steve. _

It was only then that Tony realised that he wasn’t breathing. 

And when he did gulp for air it turned into a sharp, shuddering sob that took him completely by surprise-

He didn’t even know if they were happy tears or sad. 

Because he  _ was _ happy - overjoyed, delighted, ecstatic… completely floored. There were so many elements of this that would have been enough to overwhelm him, all on their own. All together it just seemed like a wall of emotion, a dazed sort of noise in his head. 

He was so simply and innocently excited to have something like this from the man he loved-

So deeply moved to hear this from  _ Steve- _

To hear words like this from  _ anyone-  _

He found himself trying to list all the things he’d ever wanted, trying to convince himself that he really had them now - trying to work out what it would feel like, so that he could figure out how he actually felt-

But for all of that, there was still that ache deep in his heart, that sense of guilt and sympathy and desperation that radiated from it.

He could hear the earnest courage in Steve’s words. How carefully he’d chosen them, how aware he was of all those different responsibilities and pressures - how determined he was to do the right thing anyway. How he just kept trying...

Tony could so clearly see that softness in Steve now, that it had  _ always _ been there - and Tony has spent so long just stomping all over it. Never giving him enough help, enough consideration, enough credit...

_ And Steve holds none of that against you now, it doesn’t stop him making these apologies or putting his heart on the line like this- _

Oh, Tony should have said so many things, so much sooner than this-

His phone was already in his hand, his thumb scrolling through to Steve’s number reflexively-

But he managed to stop himself. 

He couldn’t call Steve and just make vowel sounds-

He had to think what the words were-

_...Oh God. _

Oh...He wished  _ so _ much that he could’ve seen him. 

To the point that he actually started running calculations, cross referencing his itinerary with Steves, the speed of the suit and the various distances-

Even though he knew it didn’t work. 

Steve wouldn’t even arrive at the cottage until after Tony was expected somewhere else…

He gave his phone an angry look. He knew that, when he did come up with some words, he really didn’t want to have to say them over the phone. It seemed like a completely insufficient medium for all the things he didn’t yet know how to say. 

...But he couldn’t leave Steve out there somewhere, wondering if Tony had read it yet,  _ still  _ not knowing all these things-

God, this was so unfair.

He even knew where Steve was going to be-

And then a shiny new idea occurred to Tony, and immediately the angry frown melted back into a delighted grin.

...He knew where Steve was going to be.

*

It was four thirty the following morning when Steve and the others finally pulled up outside their safehouse-

_ Ten thirty, New York,  _ his brain automatically translated for him - providing the time wherever Tony was, as it had every time Steve checked the clock in the last year. 

Which meant Tony was already at a formal reception, charming diplomats and sidestepping challenges and laying foundations that no one would even be aware of… 

A bashful little smile played on Steve’s lips, picturing Tony in his element like that - tempered only slightly by the thought that he probably hadn’t received the card before he left…

_ Or he  _ _ did  _ _ get it, and just hasn’t called you… _

Steve dismissed that little neurosis for the time being - God knows, he’d spent enough time being neurotic before he sent it. And  _ if _ Tony hadn’t seen his letter before he left this morning, then Steve would probably have to be anxious about it all the way through until Tuesday…

_ Which is what you get, for sending it when you  _ _ knew _ _ he was going to be working all weekend- _

_ Yeah, because that’s when Valentine's Day was- _

Steve shook his head and stepped out onto the driveway. The burning frost filled his lungs, his eyes watering against the crisp winter air. The icy remains of a late snowfall crunched under his boots as he walked around to the trunk of the car - a battered old Toyota Picnic that they’d ‘borrowed’ from a junkyard near Calais. 

...It had been a difficult few days.

The short version of events was that they’d stumbled onto the activities of a human trafficking ring in Russia, which had lead them halfway across Europe and thousands of miles away from the jet. And, as always, stopping the bad guys wasn’t the hard part - the hard part was not being apprehended by the same authorities they’d handed the bad guys over to. Trying to travel and stay hidden and carry on existing, when the whole world was looking for them and they were among the most recognisable people on Earth and they’d actually just gone out of their way to make a scene… again. 

As was so often the case, they’d had very little opportunity to plan, and no opportunity to pack, and very few options when it came to making it up as they went along. They knew when they got into that mission that it would mean sleeping under bridges and stealing the occasional bottle of water, at least until they got far enough away from the chaos they’d just caused. 

But hey, there are some things you  _ can’t _ plan for, and some things you just can’t ignore. Steve couldn’t speak for the others, but he certainly didn’t mind a few nights’ discomfort, when he thought of the people they’d helped…

He’d certainly minded less than Tony, who had been out of his mind with worry the entire time…

Steve felt a little guilty for smiling at that, but he couldn’t help it. There  _ was _ something touching about how desperately Tony had looked for a solution… it  _ had _ made Steve feel better. Even though there hadn’t been anything Tony could do for those first few days, just knowing that he was out there, trying  _ so  _ hard to think of something, made Steve feel that much safer. Less lonely. Like he was being held. 

And, as he finally turned to survey the little cottage that Tony had booked for them, Steve had to admit that he  _ liked _ being with someone who could fix things like this.

It was about more than how cold and tired he was… although, that was certainly part of it. By now there was a constant, fatigued ache behind his eyes, and a painful grinding all the way down his spine, and a grimy irritation all over his skin - the thought of a hot shower and an actual bed was so fundamentally comforting that it made Steve feel pleasantly tearful.

But more important was the fact that  _ Tony _ had provided all of those things.

The fact that Tony had  _ wanted _ to provide those things.

That he  _ could _ provide those things.

Steve had carried the entire world on his shoulders for as long as he could remember, always so aware that ultimately  _ he _ was responsible for defending the earth, and his team - most certainly himself. He’d never dared hope that one day he might just be able to call someone for help. That there would be someone  _ Steve _ could think of as a safety net. It wasn’t the same as having someone he knew would always help him, or someone who would always have his back, as much as Steve appreciated both of those things. It was having someone he could turn to and say,  _ I don’t know what the plan is, over to you. _

Tony had been that safety net for Steve so many times in just the last few weeks. So many times that Steve only had to mention where they were, and what had happened, before Tony was coming up with contingencies and travel plans and anonymous bookings for whatever they might need. 

There had been far fewer nights spent sleeping rough, since Tony started looking out for them. Fewer days on empty bellies, fewer inconveniences and discomforts to suffer through… Far less fear, less anxiety. Fewer nights lost to worrying  _ what if. _

And yes, there were still times they were blindsided. Times when missions came up out of nowhere or they ran into problems they weren’t expecting - times when there was no choice but to retreat to the shadows…

Even then, it mattered that Tony was there. 

_ … I really hope I’ve not just ruined that by moving too fast or misjudging the situation or making it weird- _

Steve shook his head again, and slammed the trunk closed. He reminded himself,  _ get everyone inside, get warm -  _ _ then _ _ start over thinking the damn Valentines card again. _

They only had the one rucksack of meagre supplies between them, which Steve slung over his shoulder before he followed the others to the front door. It was an old building, made of worn grey stone that appeared to have become studier with age. Immediately it  _ felt _ secure, separate from the world they were running from - a safe haven, in every sense of the word. Steve allowed a weary smile to soften into his face, as he watched Nat fish the keys out of the mailbox, as instructed. And then he listened to each of his teammates let go of them same happy little gasp-

It was  _ warm _ inside. 

Oh, Steve loved that feeling. That basic human relief of stepping out of the cold. He’d barely made it a foot over the threshold before his bag was sliding down his arm, all of his muscles surrendering to the promise of rest… He gave the hallway the briefest glance, his feet carrying him through to the adjoining living area - or, more specifically, to the nearest armchair. Every joint complained as he fell into it, but he didn’t care. He liked it, actually. He even enjoyed the dull ache that began to throb in his calves, like a warning not to think about moving again for a while…

And he didn’t have to.

Oh, that was a nice thought…

“Do we have any actual food?” Sam sighed, collapsing just as dramatically into the couch opposite. 

“Uh, some cookies, some bread I think, and there might be a tin of soup left,” Steve frowned, glancing down at the rucksack, trying to will enough energy to actually bend down and look inside.

“Water,” Nat decided, strolling over to the door at the back of the room, “does anyone else want some?”

Steve added a delighted  _ yes please _ to the general chorus, suddenly aware of how thirsty he’d apparently been for an hour. And then his stomach twinged, reminding him that he was  _ also _ very hungry… Although he wasn’t sure he was more hungry than he was tired. Just watching Nat walk through to the kitchen had exhausted him. He wasn’t sure he could be bothered thinking about how to divide up their paltry rations, before he’d had at least ten hours sleep-

“ _ Or _ ,” Nat announced, from behind the dividing wall, “does anyone want hot chocolate…?”

Steve blinked, immediately wondering what the catch was, as Sam sat upright and gave the door an incredulous stare.

“You wouldn’t tease a man,” he called out in a pleading tone that sounded one hundred percent serious. Steve huffed a little laugh-

And then Nat poked her head around the doorframe, an excited smile in her eyes. 

“I think you might want to come and see this…” She said directly to Steve, her voice warm with promise.

His exhaustion momentarily forgotten, Steve leapt to his feet and rushed over to see what the surprise was-

His breath catching in his chest as he saw just how much surprise there was for him to take in. 

The kitchen was small and narrow, with a worn countertop along one wall and a round wooden table at one end - and every available surface was covered with…  _ stuff _ . 

It took a good few minutes for Steve to move beyond that general impression, to pick the individual items out of the abundance… Boxes of cereal, loaves of fresh bread, baskets of fruit, cartons of eggs, jars of coffee and sugar and flour, even bars of candy… Clean clothes, still in their packaging, bottles of shampoo and bars of soap, packs of bandaids and disposable razors… At some point Steve had to stop counting and steady himself. 

He could actually feel the warmth spreading over his skin, like a heavy blanket closing around his shoulders. 

“Hey guys,” he called out, grinning and breathless, just because he wanted to share this excitement. Because a feeling like this couldn’t be contained. He glanced up at Nat again as the sound of weary footsteps drew closer-

And saw her nod, very pointedly, towards the table.

“Oh...My God,” Wanda gasped happily from somewhere behind Steve - but he didn’t turn to look. At last he’d spotted the flat, square package that sat in amongst the packs of clean socks and the stacked tins of soup…

There was a card sitting on top of it. 

His heart in his throat, Steve stepped over to take a closer look. His face only flushed hotter when he recognised that the box was actually gift wrapped, in expensive looking white paper with a delicate silver pattern. The envelope on top was a rose pink colour, his name written in a familiar handwriting…

_ It’s a Valentines card… _

_ And a gift… _

“Hey, tell you what,” Sam announced, snapping Steve out of his reverie, “seeing as you are  _ all _ such terrible cooks, why don’t I make us something to eat while you get cleaned up - and then the dishes are on you.”

Steve smiled a thank you at him before he turned to retrieve the box-

It was heavier than he was expecting - a strangely comfortable, natural weight...

And large enough that he had to lay it over both arms…

Of course, part of him immediately started trying to guess what it might be, with about as much restraint as a six year old running down the stairs on Christmas morning-

But he knew he didn’t really matter.

He could  _ already _ be delighted about the bit that mattered-

...Couldn’t he?

“Hey,” Sam called him back, just as he was about to leave the kitchen. He waited until Steve met his eye before he said, “when you call him, tell him  _ I  _ said thank you, okay?”

Steve let go of an emotional little breath before he nodded,

“I will.”

*

It took a phenomenal amount of self restraint, but Steve decided to shower and get dressed before he opened the gift. As eager as he was to see what Tony had sent - and, perhaps moreso, what Tony had  _ said _ \- he also wanted to make sure the moment was as perfect as it could be. That there would be no discomfort or pending task to distract him.

...And maybe also because he was just a little bit nervous of doing it. 

It was a  _ nice _ sort of nervousness… Mostly. An innocent, human excitement, an open and vulnerable burst of hope. He was pretty sure this could only be a good thing…

Right?

Whatever the present was, whatever Tony had written, he  _ had _ sent Steve a gift wrapped box and a rose-coloured card… On Valentine's Day…

That couldn’t be a  _ bad _ sign… could it?

Steve knew he couldn’t run away with fantasies that Tony would say everything he wanted him to - but surely, he could at least assume that this was a step in the right direction? Not a step in the  _ wrong _ direction, at least?

He hadn’t given this much constructive thought, while he was hastily showering. His mind had been full of excited chatter that whole time, questions and anxieties and he-hardly-dared-hopes, all bouncing off of one another, giving him no chance to actually answer them. 

And then he finally got to sitting cross legged on the bed, the parcel and the card waiting ceremoniously in front of him…

And everything seemed to slow down.

Rather than impatiently reaching for the envelope, as he’d been picturing for the last few minutes, Steve found himself rooted in place. An ominous sense of seriousness settled over him - not bad exactly, but  _ important _ . Even the childish babbling in his head seemed to sober up under the intensity of it, enough for him to listen to some of the key points…

_ This  _ _ could _ _ be a very big moment… _

Steve was scared to acknowledge that particular hope - but he couldn’t save himself from knowing what this  _ might _ be. It  _ could _ be a sign that Tony felt the same way Steve did - it might be direct, articulated confirmation, in fact…

_ Maybe he did get the card, maybe this is an answer- _

_ Maybe this is a  _ _ yes… _

Steve was reluctant to consider that too carefully, simply because he wanted it so much. 

Because he had daydreamed about calling Tony  _ his _ for almost as long as he’d known him.

Because, in all honesty, he’d daydreamed about having anyone to call  _ his _ , for basically as long as he’d been alive.

Because he’d hardly dared to dream that there would come a point where the past was behind them, a point where there was more to their relationship than the issues they had to fix, where they were allowed to talk about the future… 

_...and it might  _ _ not  _ _ be that. _

All but the most neurotic parts of Steve’s brain had accepted that this wasn’t going to be a lovingly wrapped  _ fuck you _ . That he already knew it wasn’t  _ bad- _

But this  _ could _ just be a carefully sugar-coated,  _ even though I don’t want to be with you, I still care about you. _

A light-hearted joke, designed to deflect from a question that Tony didn’t want to answer, or that had made him uncomfortable.

A pointedly neutral,  _ I don’t want to reject your Valentine, I’m just not sure I’m there yet. _

Steve didn’t want to be disappointed by any of that. He wanted to  _ feel _ all of the good there was in any of those responses, to believe it when he told himself that things were so much better than he ever thought they’d be…

But he did want...

And he did hope...

His heart started humming high in his chest as he picked up the envelope, and turned it over in his hands. It was thick paper stock, velvety under his fingers and engrained with the slightest hint of a shimmer when he moved it under the light. He tried to imagine Tony buying it, wondering whether he would have chosen it from a website or picked it out of a selection on a newsstand… Whether he’d spent time on the decision, if he’d had lots of options to choose from - or if, like Steve, he’d been forced to pick the least-worst option as quickly as possible. Steve remembered holding his own card like this, pinched at the corners between his thumb and his forefingers, staring through it in the same way as he worked up the courage to put it in the mailbox.

...And then he remembered holding another envelope with Tony’s name on it. 

Remembering  _ that _ letter had the strange effect of puncturing his excitement and adding to it, all at once. 

Because, of course, Steve hated thinking about that letter. He hated thinking back to that time in his life, and remembering all that grief and confusion and guilt…

It reminded him that he’d gotten things very wrong before,

That he wasn’t especially good at letters,

That he’d caused an awful lot of hurt, and it really hadn’t been that long since he’d apologised properly…

... _ Maybe it  _ _ was _ _ ridiculous or presumptuous or… Just too soon… _

_ Maybe it  _ _ did  _ _ look like I was trying to draw a line under everything after a few weeks…  _

_ Maybe it was insensitive _

_ Maybe it was just totally off base. Maybe I’ve turned an emotional one night stand into something else entirely, and he never thought for a second that it meant- _

_ But you do know that Tony loves you. _

Whatever that meant for the two of them, and the future they could have together, Steve  _ did _ know that Tony loved him. That he meant it in the same way Steve did, when he said it every night, before he hung up…

Steve hadn’t dared to hope for that, when he wrote that first letter. 

There were  _ so _ many things that had seemed impossible, when he wrote that letter. Burdens he’d carried for so long that they didn’t even have names, sadness that he’d just accepted as a part of himself, problems for which he’d always assumed there were no answers - it had  _ always _ seemed impossible that he could be free of all that. That he’d even be able to find those shapeless issues in amongst the angst, much less solve them…

It used to  _ feel _ impossible, the idea of talking honestly to Tony, trying to explain his insecurities, apologise for his mistakes… It certainly would’ve sounded impossible to the Steve of a year ago, if someone had told him,  _ no, really, you’d  _ _ like _ _ it if you tried it. _

...Steve actually felt guilty sometimes, for liking it quite as much as he did.

...And embarrassed, that something so obvious had come as quite such a revelation.

_ But _ , it turned out that a conversation was so much easier when he didn’t have to spend the whole time pretending he was perfect.

And it turned out that being honest about his mistakes, and apologising, and thinking about how he could make amends for them, all made him feel so much better than trying to defend them.

And it turned out that being able to admit that he was confused or scared or angry was the first step in talking  _ about _ those things.

...It turned out, Tony  _ would _ listen to him, if Steve gave him the chance.

So, yes, Steve felt somewhat silly for not knowing all of this already, and sometimes he worried that their phone calls were more for his own benefit than Tony’s-

But whichever way he looked at them, Steve knew those calls were  _ helping _ . That things  _ had _ changed so much in the last six weeks - that he’d changed. That he was stronger and happier and more confident in himself than he’d ever been, that he was thinking clearly for maybe the first time in his life…

That he  _ did _ want to be with Tony, and that Tony deserved to know it, and that being honest about his feelings was a better way to be…

_ And you know Tony loves you, and you know that closeness is real, and you  _ _ did _ _ make it clear that it was without expectation, so maybe- _

And with that, Steve lost patience with himself. 

His hands reached out for the envelope of their own accord, simply breaking under the tension, entirely separate from the relentless, circular analysis that was still echoing in his head. 

Until at last he broke the seal, and caught a glimpse of the image underneath-

_ Then _ his head fell quiet. 

Eagerly, he pulled the card free, even though he already knew exactly what he was going to see-

He’d spent hours studying this painting, and even longer just gazing at it - long enough to recognise it from even that brief a glance.

_ In Bed The Kiss, Toulouse-Lautrec, 1892 _

...Steve loved this painting. 

There wasn’t any deeper significance than that, no meaningful story behind it, no great lesson it served as a metaphor for. It was simply one of a few paintings that really made him feel something, every time he looked at it - possibly the first piece of art that he’d ever really loved…

… Because of the affection in it. Because of the history and context layered in that one image. Because it seemed so very  _ real _ …

Did Tony know that?

_ How _ did Tony know any of that?

Steve couldn’t remember mentioning this painting to Tony… and yet. 

A wave of dizziness rolled in his head, settling into a pleasant lightheadedness as he opened the card and began to read,

_ Dear Steve, _

_ I’ll be honest, I have no idea how to say all of this, so for want of a better system, I’ve decided to go with ‘chronologically.’ _

_ I’m sorry for the day we met - and for those first few weeks after that. I’m sorry that I didn’t give enough thought to what you were going though, or how amazingly well you  _ _ were _ _ doing, without any credit or support. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to help you - and more than that, I’m sorry I didn’t just stop picking at you for a goddamn minute. I’m sorry I was defensive, that I kept challenging you like that, that I never missed the opportunity to make a joke - I’m sorry that I took so many of your issues personally, and that I laid so many of MY issues on your shoulders. _

_ I’m sorry for the times I lied to you, and kept secrets from you - and for taking it for granted, when you were understanding and forgiving, every time. I’m sorry that I judged your mistakes by a totally different standard to mine, that I held you responsible for the image I’d built of you in my own head - that I never gave you credit for the mistakes you didn’t make.  _

_ I’m sorry for all the times that I was too concerned with beating you, or impressing you, or keeping you, to listen to you. I’m sorry that I was so busy trying to sell the Accords that I didn’t stop to look at them from your point of view, or answer any of your concerns.  _

_ I’m so sorry for what happened in that bunker. And I’m sorry it took me so long to really think about you, begging me not to kill your friend, and be heartbroken over it. I’m sorry there have been so many times that I didn’t look at you as someone like me - even the times I just assumed you were inherently better than me. Because I know you never asked for that, and never promised that - and because I know there’s nothing ‘inherent’ about it. That it's as much a struggle for you as anyone, you’re just better at it - and you should get more credit for that, where I’ve been giving you less, because I’ve been thinking that was just who you were… _

_ I did think about calling you to say all of this (because, obviously, I’m bad at letters - I ramble, for one…) But if I was  _ _ talking _ _ to you now you would’ve interrupted me with an apology of your own - or already been in the middle of one. And, knowing you as well as I do - before you start beating yourself up about making me feel bad, and rush to call me and tell me that no, really,  _ _ you’re _ _ sorry- _

_ It’s not either or.  _

_ I do appreciate the apologies you’ve made, and I am pleased there are things you’re trying to work on, and I’m not saying I suddenly think I’m in the wrong about any of  _ _ that _

_ Only that it’s possible for there to be other mistakes that I  _ _ do _ _ have to apologise for - and you don’t actually have to be completely without sin, to accept those apologies. _

_ And that it’s possible for you to have shown incredible qualities at the same time as having human failings - and those human failings don’t make the incredible qualities less real. _

_ And that it’s possible that I owe you an apology for how I went about things - even the things I believed in. Again, me being a hypocrite, and judging you by higher standard than myself - I was SO angry that you were prepared to excuse all of your behaviour because you ‘believed the Accords were wrong’ _ ...  _ and yet it never occurred to me that I might’ve been an ass about them, even though I still believe in the principle… _

_ And I know there is so much more than I could fit in a card (and, yes, this is as tiny as I can make my handwriting) - but I want you to know all of this, and to make it clear that I’m going to work on all of this, if we’re going to be together- _

_ And that is what I want. _

_ And I know that we  _ _ both _ _ still have work to do, and that our history will always be our history, and that our lives will always be complicated - but if you wait until you solve all of your issues before you start a relationship then you’re never going to get there. The question is have you found someone you want to be with while you do that, someone worth working on your issues for, someone that you have that genuine foundation with - someone you love and trust enough to share a life with, good and bad. You are that person, Steve. _

_ And if the card wasn’t you asking then, fine, this is  _ _ me _ _ asking- _

_ Be mine? _

_ Tony _

_ P.s. I know it’s a cheat, giving you something you already own as a Valentines gift. And it is yours, because you earned it - and nothing can take away from the things you did, and the things that you are, that make you worthy of it. And I’m sorry I took it. And I love you. _

Steve knew his were happy tears. 

Slow, fat tears that had been sliding down his face since about halfway through the letter, when he’d huffed a self conscious laugh at ‘ _ before you start beating yourself up about making me feel bad’ _ and simply dissolved into it. Now, at last, he wiped his face with the back of one hand, gingerly holding the card away from him, weary of smudging the ink. His throat felt hot and tight, his chest so swollen with excitement that his ribs ached. He tried to force some words into his head, but it was like there just wasn’t room for them along with all these emotions-

He felt physically, bodily full of whatever this feeling was. 

Steve collapsed into it, falling backwards onto the bed, barely noticing that his head so narrowly missed the headboard. For a moment all of his attention was focused on riding out this high, letting this surge of giddiness roll through him, until his toes curled up under it.

He heard it again, in Tony’s voice,  _ be mine? _

Oh Tony…

_ His _ Tony…

_...Something I already own? _

The thought came out of nowhere, and immediately Steve was sitting up again, grinning as he reached out towards the gift. All of his previous anxieties had been entirely forgotten. There was nothing standing between him and his excitement over his surprise - no reason to ask himself that question before just discovering the answer. 

His hands were actually shaking as he unfolded the wrapping paper, revealing a nondescript brown cardboard box. Carefully, Steve lifted one of the flaps-

And then he dropped it again with a sharp gasp.

His hands came to cover his mouth as he remembered, 

_ It’s yours because you earned it, _

_ I’m sorry I took it, _

_ I love you. _

The shield.

Tony had returned the shield.

Steve’s chest seized with an entirely different sort of tearfulness, sharper and hotter and more immediate. One hand still resting over his lips, he reached out to open the box again, this time folding each flap back so that the shield was displayed in the centre. He ran his eyes over those familiar colours, recognising every discrete little scratch in the paintwork… And then he reached out and placed a gentle palm over the star, finally folding into the emotion of it as he remembered,

_ That shield doesn’t belong to you! You don’t deserve it! My father made that shield! _

Dropping the shield had come to represent losing everything. Losing himself. That had been the moment Steve had realised that he wasn’t Captain America anymore, that he wasn’t an Avenger, that he wasn’t even on one side of a great moral debate or leading the fight against a threat to world peace - it had all been a lie. Steve had dragged himself out of that bunker knowing that he no longer had a home, or a mission, or an identity of his own - and all for nothing. So that Bucky could go back to the same hunted, haunted life he’d been living when Steve first found him. So that the world could continue to be safe from a super soldier threat that never existed. So that the Accords could move ahead without him, just as they had been while he’d Peggy’s funeral. In that one moment it had all seemed so futile, so meaningless. Like it really had all amounted to a zero sum.

When Tony said that the shield didn’t belong to him, Steve’s only thought was that he was right. 

Perhaps, in the most sacred and shadowy of his thoughts, Steve had hoped that one day Tony might offer the shield as a token of forgiveness - and, of course, that would have meant the world… But somewhere, he’d always been fearful that Tony could never give back to him what he’d thrown away himself. That everything the shield symbolised had already been destroyed by his actions, that he could never again be the man it represented or part of the team, the  _ idea _ , it truly belonged to…

_ It does belong to you, you do deserve it, I’m sorry I took it. _

_ Tony Stark is giving you this shield... _

And not because he forgave him, but because he thought it was rightfully his.

That meant so much more than a token of forgiveness. 

It meant so much more that it was  _ Tony _ who deemed him worthy. 

...This wasn’t the shield Howard made for him. It was the shield that Tony thought he should have. 

Steve choked down the thickness in his throat, pulling his t-shirt up to wipe his face before he took a few deep, slow breaths. To top it all off, he’d just been hit by a wall of exhaustion. A searing burn flared up behind his eyelids, leaving him unsure whether he was still crying or just couldn’t keep his eyes from watering. As though fearful of being left out, his stomach suddenly twinged,  _ me too, remember!  _

Steve laughed. He didn’t know what else to do with himself. 

And then came a tap at the door.

“Steve? Breakfast is ready,” Nat called softly. Steve had to take another deep breath before he could answer her.

“Thanks, yeah, I’m coming,” he managed. He heard her footsteps pad back down the corridor, the rhythm changing as she made her way down the stairs… and then he recognised the smell of warm sugar, and bacon grease, and toasted bread-

His stomach twisted sharply, and he actually glanced down to sigh at it,  _ okay, hungry comes before tired. _

But, before any of that.

Steve stood himself up on watery legs, and waited for the world to stop shimmering. He felt as though he was moving in slow motion as he bent down to lift the shield from its box, recognising that familiar weight for what it was…

It fit his arm perfectly. Just as it always had.

He’d learned a long time ago that life wasn’t like a comic book, with nice simple storylines and narratively satisfying arcs. He knew better than to believe that things could be put right in a single gesture, or that everything could be explained in a speech, or that the fight would ever be over. But he had also always believed that life was made up of important moments, that there  _ were _ such things as personal turning points, that some gestures really did matter. 

He knew this was one of those moments. One of those rare and wonderful moments when things really did change, when something new started…

It was Steve’s shoulder that decided it was time to move - swiftly and enthusiastically seconded by his stomach,  _ again _ . So, somewhat reluctantly, Steve carefully set the shield down on the little wicker chair in the corner of the room, giving it one final smile before he turned to leave. 

Of course, he knew there was a lot he still had to think about, and process, and  _ feel _ . He was too overwhelmed and overtired to be coherent about anything right now - much less all the biggest things that had ever happened to him, all at once. At some point he’d have to organise the dazed static in his head into actual words so that he could call Tony and say… well, something he’d have to work out when he woke up. 

For now, he was content to let himself settle into this feeling of happiness, allowing the thoughts to melt into his general mood, until only the most important and most wonderful of them was left - just floating in the haze there, like something beautiful he’d been mesmerised by, as he followed that smell down to the kitchen.

_...Tony said yes. _


End file.
